


Sense of Elation

by lala_pipo



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8138036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lala_pipo/pseuds/lala_pipo
Summary: “So, do you want to leave…or do you want to stay?”





	

 

 

**H** e turned and moved, hips sensually swinging to the beat of the music. He was free of everything, his pelvis gliding languidly along the pole, kohl bordered eyes only focusing on a man a few meters away. Slowly sinking down the metal pole, he spread his legs, his gaze not wavering for a single moment.

Minho’s muscles tensed in response, fingers clawing into the armrests of the raddled leather chair he was sitting on. He was fascinated, desired the young man on stage. An undeniable urge to touch the body in front of him arose and made it hard for him to think clearly. Minho didn’t care how many other men stared at the figure; the body he saw was his alone, he wanted to believe.

Soft looking hands slid up and down the pole and Minho eagerly followed every movement, watched as the dancer leaned his face against the metallic pillar and sent him a challenging look, his body pressing itself against the cold material between his legs, an aroused sound leaving his mouth. Minho bit his bottom lip and tried to suppress the indecent thoughts this performance evoked in him. He knew the man on stage was just playing with him, played with his needs, because he knew exactly what he had to do to make Minho fall for him.

The young man wound his slender body up the pole, straightened up and leaned back, thin fingers slowly wandering down his own torso. Minho felt heat seep into his skin, imagined his own hands on that beautiful body. He wanted to touch the soft skin, wanted to indulge in it. Fingers glided down the button border of a tiny black vest with embroidered silvery flowers which barely reached down to the hips, and opened the fabric that covered a perfectly shaped body. Minho craved for him, longed for his naked skin. Although he had seen him up there so often already, had seen this show every week for the past two months, it still hadn’t lost its appeal.

The need for distraction had brought Minho to this place the first time. After a round of negotiations with potential business partners from China he had been on his way home at one in the morning one day, leather briefcase in his hand, the blue tie around his neck loosened, and the first two buttons of his white dress shirt opened. The talks hadn’t gone as planned, and Minho had looked for something to take off his mind from screwing up a 3,000,000 $ deal. The shabby night club with its flickering billboards had appeared to be the perfect escape, and soon the business man in his early thirties had been guided to an empty table close to the stage, furnishing and decoration looking like they had been there since the early 90’s. Drowning the feeling of failure with hard liquor he had watched the show on stage, enjoying the beautiful young bodies that took off their clothes in the most sensual way, his body immediately responding when he had seen that beautiful human enter the stage for the first time.

He was a perfectionist, loved it to drive men over the edge with his movements, with his body, with his face. Minho had never talked to him, had never heard the sound of his voice, but to him it seemed that he could see right into the other’s soul. He looked untouchable, his angelic aura not part of this world. It was an illusion created by the club owners, an illusion Minho had fallen for.

To the loud yelling of the gawkers he let the vest slip from his shoulders bit by bit, a seductive grin adorning his glossy lips before he flung the fabric carelessly to the side. Leaning with his back against the pole, the personified sin stretched his arms upwards, encircled the pole with his fingers and swayed his hips slowly from left to right.

Minho let his eyes wander. The bleached blond hair got illuminated by the red lights on stage which dipped the beautiful body in a shimmering glow, his muscles visible beneath the pale skin, moving with every lascivious turn. As hard as he tried to Minho was not able to look away, eyes gliding over the young man’s spine, down to the waistband of low, tight leather pants. Minho was quite sure that he had never seen anything more beautiful, anything more exquisite than this youth in his entire life.

He waited for the pants to fall from these narrow hips like he always did, but he knew that the other would take them off to everyone’s delight before that could happen. He would sell is body to the viewers like he did every week. Minho had often wondered if he liked to strip for other people’s enjoyment. If it gave him some sort of satisfaction when he saw the longing looks in the visitors’ eyes who wanted to kiss him and feel him up.

The young man turned back to Minho and looked at him in silence before he sunk down to his knees and crawled up to him on all fours like a wild animal on the hunt. Minho swallowed visibly, feeling his guts churn. He pressed himself deeper into his seat as the other climbed delicately from the podium and walked over to him in long elegant strides.

Minho felt like he was swallowed alive by the enticing look that was cast his way, his cock stirring in his pants as two hands found heir way onto his shoulders. He felt dizzy and his legs turned into jelly when the man in front of him turned around and swayed his hips rhythmically, letting his butt slowly sink down into Minho’s lap. When he felt the other’s weight on his crotch, he stiffened, head falling back, fingers scratching over the armrests. He suffered without feeling any pain.

As the young man pressed against him a low moan left Minho’s lips, and he felt like he was burning from the inside. He could smell him; a sweet mix of vanilla and almond. It was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and wanted to dwell in the sweet sensation of having the other so close by, but all too soon the moment was gone and the body which clouded his senses moved away from him, leaving him with nothing but unfulfilled desires. As Minho looked up, his eyes met the other’s deep brown ones. Eyes he wanted to drown in. A cheeky wink was sent his way and a card was pressed into his hand before the young man turned around, going back to the stage.

Minho closed his fingers protectively around the card, deciding to take a look at it after the performance was over. He had waited to receive one of these for weeks, a feeling of victory settling in his stomach. This card gave him access to the staff’s private rooms and the possibility of experiencing the dancer in all his perfection.

The lean figure devoted himself to the music again, the vibration of the bass flowing through his body like waves. His movements seemed effortless and he looked like he was one with the music, melting into a symphony of sex and sound. Hands explored his own body and he let the audience know how much he enjoyed it to touch himself. Fingers slid down his bare chest and played around with a small piercing which graced his right nipple, his teeth pulling slightly on his lower lip. The gesture drove Minho insane and he was quite sure that the other men inside the stuffy club felt the same way.

The majority of them seemed to be in their forties, most of them business men who probably came here after work. Minho could tell without fail who of them had money and who didn’t, a gift that came in handy in his field of work.

Rich men watched the show with a look of indifference, knowing all too well that they could buy those young men’s bodies with a handful of bills that meant nothing to them and the world to those young men. Meanwhile, the poor men watched the shows with a look of longing in their eyes, hoping that they could buy those young men’s love with a handful of bills that could pay for their kids’ school tuition.

However, Minho belonged to his own category. He had the money, but there was no hint of indifference in his gaze, because no matter how much money he made, there was something he couldn’t buy with money and that was love, the thought making him feel lost every time he saw the other dance on stage.

The dancers fingers slid lower, drew wavy lines along his defined torso, and stopped at the hem of his pants. Eyes roamed the audience curiously and Minho was certain that the other wanted to make sure that he had everyone’s full attention. He seemed to love to be the center of the stage, to play around with men’s urges. Minho’s eyes were fixed on the other’s pelvis, which moved along to the music. His heart beat faster as hands brushed over a silvery button on the front of the other’s pants. There was a throbbing feeling in Minho’s loins, and he couldn’t wait for the other to finally open this piece of fabric.

A smug grin appeared on the young man’s face as he gazed down to his pants with an arched eyebrow, tongue cheekily tugged between his teeth. He teased them, wanted everyone at the edge of their seats. Minho nibbled on his bottom lip, the tension almost unbearable. He held his breath as the button was finally opened, fingers hooking into the belt loops to pull down the pants sensually. The trousers found their way to the corner of the stage, leaving the dancer in nothing but a pair of short, black boxer briefs. He grabbed for the pole again and turned, pressed himself against the cold iron, one leg wrapping around it. He leaned back and pushed his pelvis back and forth, a gleam in his eyes which never seemed to die. He threw his head back, losing himself in the sound of music. He looked like he was in trance, eyes closed, lips parted. It was a sensual play, and Minho wanted to be part of it, wanted to be part of his world, wanted to be part of this illusion.

There was one last guitar riff, which flooded the dimly lit room before his performance ended, the youth on stage sinking down to his knees, gaze lowered, blond hair covering his eyes. Minho felt his heart become heavy in his chest when the music faded, the figure on stage slowly standing up again as the room fell silent, pushing a few strands of hair out of his face, breathing heavily, and sweat glistening on his skin.

He was born for the stage; his movements, his charisma, his whole persona. He could captivate the audience with a single look, make them fall for him, and make them want to do everything for him.

 

→ ♣ ←

 

“You all know him and you love him. This was our shining star Taemin. A big applause for him!”

As Minho looked up he saw the stocky middle aged owner of the establishment in a flashy suit entering the stage, his stubby fingers finding their way around the young man’s slim waist. Taemin lifted his hand with a smile, his chest still visible heaving.

 _Taemin…Taemin…Taemin_ …the person who occupied Minho’s mind since weeks. The young man cast a last look into Minho’s direction, his left hand gliding through his sweaty hair before he left the stage with a deep bow. The older man stayed to announce the next show act, but Minho had no interest in watching the next stripper, he never had. He only ever visited this place for Taemin, every single week. Visited this run down place every week only to watch his ten minute show.

Minho remembered the card Taemin had given him earlier and took a look at it, a thick golden piece of paper with black lettering coming into view.

  
_“If you want to have fun, then look for me after the show!”_

 

There was nothing else on it Minho realized as he turned the card, reading this single sentence over and over again, savoring every single syllable. His mind burst with images, and reflexively his legs took him to the backstage area, finding their way to Taemin’s dressing room almost automatically. A crumpled paper was pasted onto a red lacquered door, Taemin’s name written onto it in clumsy handwriting. Minho’s heart fluttered and he looked down at the card in his hand again before he knocked on the door, waiting impatiently. As he heard footsteps on the other side he tensed, his heart making a jump when the door opened only seconds later.

“Yes please?”

Taemin’s voice was soft and melodic, his lips closing around a lollipop. Mesmerized Minho stared at the other, watching how he pulled the lollipop out of his mouth again, his tongue swiftly brushing over his bottom lip.

“I… _uhm_ …,” Minho started, feeling at a loss of words. Usually he was not like this, his job demanding for him to be a good talker, but in this moment he felt like his usual confidence had abandoned him, making him cough awkwardly. However, Taemin only smiled at him, grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside his dressing room before he closed the door behind them. He was dressed again; a simple white loose long-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of blue ripped jeans covering his body.

“I know why you are here,” he said in an almost indifferent tone, walked passed Minho and sunk down on a squeaking folding chair in front of a small white dressing table. He watched Minho through a big mirror, put his lollipop back into his mouth and continued his sentence. “First of all I don’t do it without a condom. Hand jobs are 20, blow jobs are 50, fucking me costs 100…ah yeah, I’m not into kinky shit,” he explained monotonously, swirling the lollipop around his mouth nonchalantly.

Minho swallowed and looked at the other almost in shock. He sounded so uninterested and desolated. The shining aura he had emitted on stage seemed to have completely vanished. Without the show lights his eyes looked tired, his face worn out and stressed. For a second Minho questioned his decision to come here before Taemin stood up and threw the lollipop into a bin, walking towards him.

“You don’t look like my usual customers, that’s why I chose you tonight. It’s not your first time here, I’ve seen you before,” he began, eyeing the taller man in front of him. “It’s hard to imagine that you can’t get sex in a conventional way. Are you in a boring marriage with a prude wife so you need look for some distraction?” Taemin guessed curiously, his eyes shamelessly checking the other out. Minho only shook his head, which caused the other to smile and come even closer.

“You seem to belong to the group of ‘ _shy guys_ ’. That’s how I like to call them. They don’t talk much, but are insatiable in bed,” Taemin stated and wandered over to a simple, narrow bed in one corner of the room. It was covered with a white blanket and a bunch of colorful pillows in all kind of shapes and sizes. Minho watched the other throw most of the pillows from the bed before he wantonly lay down onto it and patted the empty space next to him.

Even though he had wanted this all along Minho hesitated now, not sure if he should really take this final step. He didn’t want to destroy his illusion, didn’t want to see Taemin as anything less than a dancing angel. While Minho contemplated his options, Taemin sat up and pulled his white T-shirt over his head, letting it carelessly fall to the ground. Only seconds later he also opened the button of his jeans, and pulled them down together with his underwear, apparently feeling no shame at all.

The view took Minho’s breath away, and his heart started to beat frantically in his chest as Taemin bluntly sat on the bed, parting his legs slightly. Even though Minho tried his best to not get too worked up over this sight, he felt his cock hardening again, his eyes practically glued to the nether regions of Taemin’s body. How much he had craved to see the other naked like this.

“So, do you want to leave…or do you want to stay?”

His voice sounded so tempting, and as if he wanted to make it even harder for Minho he let his hand glide down his neck, to his stomach… _on and on_ …until it stopped only centimeters above his crotch.

“Are you impotent?” he suddenly asked skeptically when Minho still didn’t move an inch, his hand falling down from his body. Minho shook his head again and tried to regain his posture. Moments passed until he finally found himself being able to speak again and he took a deep breath, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

“No, I’m not sexually frustrated and I’m also not married. Usually I’m not a shy person…and I don’t have problem with my virility yet,” he finally said in a deep voice, and in return Taemin arched one eyebrow in surprise, lips turning up into a grin.

“Why are you here then?” Taemin asked, seemingly interested in getting an answer. Minho pondered over the question for a moment and stepped a little closer, eyes scanning the room with interest. It was small and smelly, and next to the bed and the dressing table there was nothing but a rack with different clothes on it. The gray rug beneath his feet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in ages and was covered in differently sized stains, the walls surrounding them plastered in colorful advertising posters for the club.

As hard as Minho tried to think of an answer, he couldn’t come up with one that didn’t make him sound like a total fool, so he only shrugged his shoulders and walked up to Taemin who dragged him down to the mattress by pulling at his white dress shirt, busying himself with opening the little buttons on it right away. Minho watched his every movement, not wanting to miss out on anything. Nothing stayed hidden under his unwavering gaze. He wondered how many buttons Taemin had already opened in his life before he had let himself fuck by random strangers for peanuts.

“For how long are you doing this already?” Minho asked cautiously, eyes looking down at his own shirt. A sardonic smile appeared on Taemin’s lips whose eyes were focused on his occupied hands.

“What kind of question is this? Are you here for talking or fucking?” Taemin retorted and looked up at Minho for a second before he opened the last button, stripping him of his blue jacket and his shirt. An approving hum left Taemin’s mouth as his eyes scanned Minho’s chest, one delicate forefinger stroking down from his pecs to his well-trained abs.

“Will you at least tell me how old you are?” Minho tried once again, his skin prickling beneath the other’s touch. Taemin pressed his lips into a thin line, halting in his action, eyes looking up at Minho for a moment.

“Old enough,” was the brief response, fingers continuing to roam Minho’s body.

Taemin’s movements looked rehearsed, like he had worked on them for years. They were mechanical and emotionless. He leaned forward to press his mouth against his chest, luscious lips closing around his left nipple, sucking on it. A low moan left Minho’s lips and he arched his back when Taemin’s tongue flicked against his hardened nub, teeth softly nibbling on it.

He let his head fall back and his hands buried themselves into the other’s hair, trying to enjoy this feeling for a moment, his fingers gliding through the mop of soft blond hair. Although he savored the sensation of having the other all to himself, he stopped him as Taemin moved his head target-oriented down to his crotch. Minho didn’t want them to move on this quickly. Therefore he grabbed Taemin by his chin, pulled him upwards, looked him in the eyes and tried to kiss him, but the other only turned his head away, placing a hand over Minho’s mouth.

“I don’t kiss,” Taemin stated frankly and moved his head back to the other’s crotch.

“Why?”

Taemin snorted seemingly annoyed, his tongue licking over his lips.

“I only kiss people I care about. You can buy my body but not my heart. It’s as simple as that,” he informed the other with a shrug, and Minho was sure he had heard a melancholic undertone in Taemin’s voice.

From experience Minho knew that love and money never went well together.

Minho took a deep breath when slim fingers stroked above the fly of his pants and grabbed his half hard cock through the fabric. Taemin’s eyes stayed focused on him, seemingly doubtful about his customer’s behavior. Minho wondered if he had asked too many questions, and whether Taemin didn’t want anyone to look behind his mask of insincere confidence.

How did a young man like him end up in a place like this? Judging by the youthful look Taemin could have been a freshman at university, but instead of learning about society or history, he learned about giving head.

Minho’s hands found their way to Taemin’s narrow hips, fingers caressing the soft skin they touched. Their eyes locked when a small hand opened the button on Minho’s trousers, and he moaned wantonly and arched into the touch when said hand glided down beneath the fabric. Taemin’s hand closed around him… _moved up and down, up and down_ …in a slow steady rhythm.

Taemin did all this with a naturalness that almost scared Minho. He massaged him, touched him, stroked him, and aroused him in such a perfect way that it was obvious that he probably had done this at least a hundred times already. When Taemin grabbed him a little harsher, Minho gave a loud groan, fingernails scratching the soft skin beneath his fingers. Taemin flinched, but didn’t make a sound. He seemed like a robot, whose only job it was to pleasure people. A robot that was completely expressionless and cold.

With hazy eyes Minho looked down the other’s body. He was skinny, but one could see that he worked out. He had a dancer’s body, defined arms and legs, his chest showing the hints of abs. Minho bit his lips, the pressure inside of him almost getting too much. When he thought he couldn’t last any longer Taemin removed his hand, and sat down on all fours, presenting Minho his backside on full display, not leaving anything for the other to imagine.

“There is a box with condoms and lube beneath the bed,” he stated casually and peeked over his shoulder at Minho. To him it appeared that Taemin wanted to get this whole procedure over and done with as quickly as possible. Was it such a torture for him? Taemin seemed to have forgotten the pure essence of sex, the feeling of joy and pleasure one could receive from it. Maybe this job and the experiences he had made had let him forget what it could feel like?

Minho let his gaze wander over Taemin’s back, the person in front of him looking as fragile as chinaware. He reached out one hand, letting it glide about the expenses of the other’s butt. A deep sigh left Minho’s lips before he softly caressed the skin in front of him, leaned forward and placed butterfly kisses along the other’s spine. But instead of enjoying the kisses Taemin stiffened and threw a questioning look over his shoulder.

“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to fuck?” he grumbled, sounding almost a little angry by now. Minho was quite sure that this wasn’t the way someone in Taemin’s position should act towards a customer, but his beautiful face made up for the lack of courtesy. Minho didn’t let the words get to him and stuck to his way of doing things, wanted to be one with Taemin, wanted him to enjoy himself.

Softly his hands wandered over Taemin’s sides and to his belly, feeling it raise and fall under every breath. When he touched him between his legs, Taemin winced, but still didn’t make a single sound. It only took Minho a little while before Taemin started trembling beneath him and it became noticeable how much Taemin was fighting against feeling any form of arousal, but his body reacted and he slowly hardened in Minho’s hand. Minho felt him press against his hand as he moved it along the other’s shaft, thumb circling the sensitive tip, precum wetting his fingertip.

There were no words or sounds needed for Minho to see that the other slowly relaxed beneath him. It was visible in the way he arched his back and spread his legs wider, in the way his fingers clawed into the sheets beneath him. Minho didn’t even want to know how long it had been since someone had taken care of Taemin like this. He didn’t seem to have a partner in his life, otherwise his body wouldn’t be so sensitive to touches. Minho didn’t want to take anything from Taemin like others had before him, he wanted to give…wanted to give him everything he had to offer.

Taemin’s arms were shaking when Minho reached down for the tube of lubrication, opening the cap and seeing the other looking back at him over his shoulder, mouth agape. Their eyes met again and for a second Minho’s saw the sparkle back in Taemin’s eyes, the deep glow that always captivated him on stage. Minho had come here under false pretense, but with one single look the other had bewitched him again.

Was there any hope for him to ever escape this spell?

Minho wet his fingers extensively with the cold liquid, smeared it around the little puckered hole, causing Taemin to widen his legs even further. Taemin curved his back as two of the coated fingers gently pressed against him, Minho’s fingers sliding into him way too easily. He seemed too used to this. He pushed the fingers to the hilt, moved them slowly and watched the other in front of him. There were goosebumps on Taemin’s skin, covering his arms and legs.

“What’s your name?“ Taemin asked all of a sudden, voice low and breathy, head falling between his shoulders, strands of blond hair hanging into his face. Taken aback Minho halted in his movements and licked his dry lips, eyes fixed on the fingers inside the other’s butt.

“It’s Minho,” he answered shortly, fingers trying to stretch the other a little.

“ _Minho_ ,” Taemin began to say the other’s name slowly and moved forward, Minho’s fingers slipping out of him in the process. “Nice gesture, but believe me…I don’t need that,” he continued and pointed at the condoms inside the box on the floor.

Minho sighed in disappointment, but complied without uttering a word. He got up from the bed to take off his remaining clothes and soon rolled a condom down his length, spreading lube on it. He didn’t get back on the bed, instead he pulled Taemin by his hips and positioned the other’s knees on the edge of the mattress so he could stand between them. It was an addictive sight, seeing the slim body on all fours in front of him, butt high up in the air, no secret left for him to reveal. The little hole twitched, and Minho licked his lips in anticipation, holding onto the other’s pelvis with one hand while pressing himself against Taemin with his other. The heat was indescribable, his mind losing focus for a moment.

He wanted to pound into him so badly, but he held back, didn’t want to fall into this obvious trap like others had before him. Minho wanted to enjoy every moment of this, wanted to last as long as possible. He pulled out slowly before he pushed back in, both hands holding onto Taemin’s hips now. It took him a few thrusts to get used to the heat, one hand wandering down to the other’s cock, taking it in a firm grip. There was a low moan then, a sign that he almost got him.

Just a little bit more.

Minho tried his best to educe another bittersweet moan from Taemin’s lips, thrusting into him in a steady rhythm, one hand holding onto him while the other jerked him off. The lube on his fingers made it easier for him to caress the other with his hand, the bed frame squeaking with every push of his hips. There was a little moan when he picked up speed, and another when he jerked him a little faster.

A smile appeared on Minho’s lips when he realized that Taemin stopped to suppress his emotions and started to feel instead. With every push the moans became louder; sounding throaty and aroused. To Minho it was a beautiful, satisfying sound. He had dreamed of hearing it for so long now.

“Ride me,” he then suddenly said lowly and pulled out, Taemin sinking down onto the mattress for a moment, breathing erratically. He looked perfect; skin covered in sweat, hair sticking to his flushed cheeks, thick lips parted. Minho gave him a clap onto his buttocks, liking the sound his hand made against the heated flesh. Taemin grunted in disapproval, but sat up anyway, looking at Minho through glazed eyes.

“Sit down then,” he whispered, sounding exhausted, the annoyance from before completely missing now.

Minho obeyed immediately, took a seat on the bed, and slid against the wall, leaning his back against it, his legs stretched out into a V. Taemin didn’t waste any time and scrambled towards him, placed one hand onto Minho’s shoulders and mounted him, the other hand holding onto the base of Minho’s cock to help him settle down onto it.

The position was perfect, because Minho could take it all in, could look at Taemin’s face, at his heaving chest, and could see his erection bouncing with every movement. He held onto Taemin’s buttocks and bent forward, angling for the piercing in the other’s nipple with his lips. He tasted iron as he sucked on the brown little nub, Taemin arching into the ministration with a moan. The little metal piece and its connotation stood in total contrast to the innocence of Taemin’s face. He was a bundle of contradictions; looking pure on the outside and being tainted on the inside.

Minho was too far gone now, didn’t want to leave this ugly room ever again. He wanted to stay until Taemin had drained him of all his energy like an incubus. He licked his lips when he let go of the hardened flesh again and looked up at Taemin who had his eyes closed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, his hair framing his rosy cheeks.

How could something this beautiful be so contradicting?

Minho’s hands wandered up to Taemin’s shoulder blades and pulled him close, so close that the tips of their noses almost touched.

“I don’t kiss,” Taemin panted as if to make a point, fingers holding firmly onto Minho when he let his pelvis move in circles above the other’s crotch.

“You repeat yourself,” Minho replied with a smirk, and kissed the other’s neck instead, nibbled on the soft skin, and used his teeth to make Taemin moan again. He felt Taemin’s hand wander to his nape and up to his hair, pulling slightly at the strands of brown hair and forcing him to look at the other again.

“I don’t kiss,” he stated again, pupils widened, lips quivering. They stared at each other for a moment, both breathing laboriously, bodies moving against one another urgently. The tension was tangible, and for a second Minho forgot that this wasn’t real, that he had bought Taemin’s time, that they weren’t lovers, but a hooker and his customer. He could feel Taemin’s breath ghosting over his skin, pink, thick lips hovering above his.

He just had to try again.

Taemin didn’t move away when Minho tried to kiss him this time, his lips tasting like artificial cherry flavor. They kissed deep, sloppy and long, Minho’s hand wandering up to Taemin’s cheek, holding it in a firm grip. The other hand descended between their bodies, fingers closing around the other’s erection. It didn’t take long before Taemin started to tremble intensely, breaking their kiss, pressing his forehead against Minho’s. His face showed a deep frown and his mouth opened wide, a long loud almost desperate sounding moan leaving his lips as he came in white spurts, semen hitting both their bodies, dribbling down Minho’s hand.

Minho didn’t leave him time to regain his posture, but rocked up into him from beneath, the slim body above him shaking. Minho grabbed his buttocks a little harsher to keep him steady and kneaded the firm flesh, exhausted little groans escaping Taemin’s lips. He didn’t want this to end, but Minho felt himself come undone inside the lithe body, his hips bucking up, and his hands pressing him into his crotch when he finished, head falling against Taemin’s shoulder.

Taemin stayed seated in Minho’s lap, cradled the other’s head in his arms and buried his nose into his hair. It was an intimate moment, far more intimate than the sex they just had.

“Thank you,” he mumbled and Minho straightened up to look Taemin in the eye.

“For what?”

“For making me feel like an actual human being and not like a sex toy for once,” he answered with a sigh, and Minho saw something like genuine thankfulness flickering up in the other’s deep brown orbs. His heart tightened at the confession, his eyes fixed on Taemin while the other stroked his hair absentmindedly.

“You know, you don’t need to do this,” Minho started as Taemin got up unhurriedly, his softening dick slipping out of him.

“Don’t need to do what?” he asked and stood up from the bed, running his hands through his damp hair before he turned around and walked over to the dressing table to fetch a box of tissues, throwing them at Minho in a gallant toss.

“You don’t need to work here.”

Minho caught the box with one hand, and plucked a few tissues to clean himself up, his eyes wandering back to Taemin as he heard him give a disparaging laugh.

“How so? Want to take me home with you? That would cost more than you could afford.”

Taemin’s posture clearly stated that he was back to business, arms crossed in front of his chest, the softness in his eyes gone again.

“Try me,” Minho retorted, trying to break down the other’s reserve. It seemed to work, because Taemin looked rather bewildered and seemed to ponder over what to reply. His made up eyes went up to the ceiling as he cocked his eyebrows, a small pout framing his lips.

“How about…300 for the night?” he answered eventually, a smile appearing on Minho’s face.

“How much for a week?”

Minho stood up as well and pulled off the condom, knotting it and throwing it into a small bin next to the bed. Taemin seemed to be at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing, but no words leaving it. Minho got dressed silently while Taemin was still contemplating, his head tilted to the side in thought.

“3000?”

The sum sounded like he had made it up on the spot without really thinking about it, and Minho smiled to himself, buttoned up his shirt, put on his jacket and turned around to face Taemin.

“Fine then. Grab your stuff,” he announced simply, and adjusted the collar of his shirt. Taemin looked utterly confused, strands of hair falling into his face again. When Taemin didn’t move, Minho picked up his clothes from the floor, walked over to him and handed them over with a smile.

“Time is money, so hurry up.”

“I can’t just leave.”

Taemin looked a little helpless and clung to the clothes in his arms.

“Why not? You are only here for the money, right? I’ll give you the money and in return you’ll come with me,” Minho elaborated and fished for the leather wallet in his back pocket. He opened it and took a couple of 100$ bills out of it. He waved them at Taemin’s astonished face before he placed them onto the dressing table, spreading them out for the other to check.

“You see, I’m not lying.”

Taemin licked his lips and looked down at the bills, fingers reaching forward, but stopping before he could touch them.

“So instead of having to sleep with random customers I have to sleep with you?” he asked warily and arched his eyebrow.

“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no if you want to,” Minho smirked at last and walked up to the door only to turn around again when he reached it. He watched Taemin hesitate before he pulled his white long-sleeve over his head, stepping back into his boxers and his jeans.

When Taemin looked up at him for a moment, he knew he was doing the right thing. He wanted to give Taemin everything. Wanted to give him everything he had to offer. One couldn’t buy love with money, but Minho was sure now that money could at least pave the way to help someone fall in love.

 

 **The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Fan Fiction Masterlist can be found [here](http://lala-pipo.livejournal.com/794.html)


End file.
